


trinkets

by cattrills



Category: Disney - All Media Types, The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Character, Best Friends, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, selective mute, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:09:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattrills/pseuds/cattrills
Summary: In most of her waking hours, Ariel ponders the vastness of the ocean.
Relationships: Ariel & Eric (Disney)
Kudos: 14





	trinkets

**Author's Note:**

> yes, this was a creative writing assignment (i had to put a twist on a fairytale)   
yes, I was self projecting  
yes, I'm posting it here anyways
> 
> anyways I hope the -1810928 people that read this enjoy it! might get back on my jojo fanfic bs or write some kny stuff soon, who knows.

In most of her waking hours, Ariel ponders the vastness of the ocean. How the majority of the deep, cyan waters have yet to be discovered, filled to the brim with unique forms of life, animals that emit their own fluorescence, organisms inhabiting even the most harsh areas of its depths, undiscovered trenches and caverns untouched and unperturbed by even the most daring of sea life: blissfully calm, isolated,  _ mesmerizing.  _ In most of her waking hours, Ariel’s thoughts are consumed by her desire to get  _ just a taste  _ of what it’s like to be part of that world. 

The ocean is a comfort for Ariel; a passion and fascination that has burned deep within her soul since she was a young girl, enrapturing her, entangling its way into the core of her identity. Despite the disapproval from her father, despite the mockery from her sisters, her passion has never lost traction. When her collection of items she found washed up on the beach was destroyed by her father, that light still refused to be snuffed out. Those giddy feelings of excitement and wonder have never faltered, never failed. The sea cannot judge her, therefore she always returns. As her collection of ocean-themed hair forks, saltwater eroded trinkets and colorful seashells rebuild, so does her passion. It is a safe and content escape from a rather confusing and judgemental world. 

Ariel does not speak. Not to most people, rather. In her mind, she likes to imagine that her mutism is a curse, that the anxiety that boils over inside is simply a spell that was cast upon her by an evil sea witch when she was young, a story in which she is the hero and she is the one that possesses the power to rid herself from the spell’s grasp. This pretense makes it much easier to cope with, and it fills her to the brim with a sickeningly sweet hopefulness. She may not speak to most, but her bright and gentle personality is no secret to anyone. Genuine, intelligent, passionate; Ariel has always been unapologetically herself.

She meets Eric when she is fifteen years old, and when she does, he is dying.

She was at the beach again, collecting an assortment of colorful rocks and shells, eroded by millennia of friction against the crashing saltwater waves and each individual grain of sand. She had smiled a wide, giddy smile, and pocketed her discoveries as she scuttled along the shoreside to collect more.

That is when she found him, washed up and crumpled like a heap of dirty laundry, limbs twisted in a sickeningly unnatural way. His skin had taken on a deathly pallor, dark strands of hair plastered to his sickly face, lips tinged a faint purple, and when the image fully registered in her mind the weight of death loomed over her like the rumbling clouds before a thunderstorm, heavy and dark and  _ panicked. “ _ ** _He could be dead,” _ ** she had thought, and without any deliberation, she practically lunged at the pitiful form lying on the shoreside, desperate to do  _ something.  _ Heart palpitating, breath erratic, she rolled the male onto his side, and as she did so, a stream of saline water emerged from his lips as he heaved and coughed each remnant of the sea from his lungs. She stared intensely, empathy bubbling over, as she prayed that those eyes would open. 

After what felt like an excruciatingly long amount of time, they did. Cerulean eyes cracked open and scanned their surroundings. After some deliberation, the boy had asked in a raspy voice:

“What’s your name?”  
Ariel did not reply, and, to his perplexion, had taken a piece of driftwood from the sand and spelled out _Ariel. _He pondered this for a moment, and replied drowsily:  
“Hey, Ariel. My name is Eric. Thanks for saving my life.”  
  
The pair have become inseparable since then. 

Eric is a gentle soul; his kind eyes glimmering as Ariel excitedly shows off her collection of oddities that she had found, and her pet flounder that she makes sure to text him about a million times to not tap the glass of his tank _just in case he forgets. _He doesn’t mind, though. In fact, he quite enjoys and cherishes the time spent where she is showing him all of her trinkets, writing or texting to him everything she knows about the ocean that she can think of, along with the warmth and kindness that radiates from her person at all times. He cherishes it all, and he is grateful to have such a genuine best friend. The feeling is mutual, and Ariel cannot express enough how grateful she is to have somebody that actually accepts her. There is no pressure for her to speak to him; if it happens, it will happen when she is comfortable enough to do so.  
When it does, however, it is near the spot where they first met. It was a cool, crisp evening; sea illuminated by the faint indigo hue of the moonlight, waves gently crashing against the sand, the two completely separate and secluded from the rest of the world. It is a comfortable routine the two share, and, the time is usually spent with Eric rambling about absolutely anything while Ariel contentedly listens, or the pair walking the beach in comfortable silence. On this night, it is the latter, as they work their way down the shore collecting various shells and items the waves had washed up. In the moment, crouched there with her best friend, she had said:  
  


“Y’know, there’s so much of the ocean that hasn’t even been discovered yet.”

Eric’s head jolted up to face hers, and, once the initial shock had subsided he gave her a big, toothy grin and replied:

“Yeah, I know that, you’ve told me like a million times!” 

Ariel smiled that bright, beautiful smile, and for the first time in a long time, she felt as though the sea is not the only thing that wouldn’t judge her. In most of her waking hours, Ariel ponders the vastness of the ocean, and, she needn’t ponder alone anymore. 


End file.
